


Got You

by meansgirl



Series: Missing Scenes [5]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Deep Throating, Kink Negotiation, Light Dom/sub, M/M, PWP, Praise Kink, mild bondage, tied up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 22:16:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8941537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meansgirl/pseuds/meansgirl
Summary: Jack wants to try something.The first explicit thing Jack had said during their Skype conversation came in the middle of the kind of heated flirting they tend to get up to lately once they’ve done a rundown of their days. He had said, “I like when you tell me what to do.”Eric had assumed Jack meant feedback, or prompting.“No,” Jack had clarified. “Like. I want... I want you to tell me what to do. I kind of… I kind of want you to make me. Like, make me do whatever you want me to do. Make it so I have to.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> You guys. I wrote more porn. I know. Shocking. This is actually fine to be read outside of the Missing Scenes series, though I did write it with that 'verse in mind. I am going to place this in that series but also in another, which I am dorkily titling "Lemon Pie" because I plan to just a do a bunch of these porny little interludes. There's not much plot here, y'all. 
> 
> This fic contains some BDSM themes. In my opinion it's fairly tame, though. Everything is consensual. Check the tags for more info :)

Eric misses his train, which means he misses the tiny window of time in which Jack could have met him at the station in Providence. He texts Jack when he realizes this.

**Eric Bittle:** meeting with prof Atley ran long. Later train. Sorry :(

**Jack Zimmermann:** It's okay.

**Jack Zimmermann:** How was the meeting?

**Eric Bittle:** GREAT actually. Might have some internship leads for summer and some ideas for senior thesis next yr.

**Jack Zimmermann:** Sounds good. I'll have an uber pick you up.

**Eric Bittle:** I can get it! Don't worry!

**Jack Zimmermann:** Text me when you're pulling into the station, I'll request it.

**Eric Bittle:** Jack.

**Jack Zimmermann:** Eric.

**Eric Bittle:** Don't first name me. 

**Jack Zimmermann:** you started it. 

**Jack Zimmermann:** Just let me get the car for you. Please.

Eric sighs, but agrees. An uber  _ would  _ cut into the butter budget this month, and he knows that Jack will persist on the topic if he tries to argue. His phone buzzes again as he’s taking his seat on the train.

**Jack Zimmermann:** I'll be home by 6. 

**Jack Zimmermann:** I want to do the thing we talked about.

**Eric Bittle:** Thing?

**Jack Zimmermann:** From the other night on Skype.

Eric’s face goes hot.  _ Oh, _ he thinks as his heart picks up speed.  _ That thing.  _ He marvels, briefly, at how Jack has managed to bring this up in a text with the same brevity he uses to text Eric about whether the dishwasher needs to be run.

**Eric Bittle:** I see… are you sure? We don't have to, I didn't think it was a right away kind of thing.

**Jack Zimmermann:** It's okay if you don't want to. I'll just see you at 6.

Eric shakes his head to himself, drawing the attention of the girl seated next to him. He shoots her an absent smile,  _ oh hello, I promise I'm not a weirdo _ , and hunches over his phone.

**Eric Bittle:** I do want to. I was just surprised. You know I was into it when we talked about it, I still am. Key with security?

**Jack Zimmermann:** Okay. Yes.

**Eric Bittle:** Do you want me to...I don’t know what I’m asking. Is there something you want me to do, specifically? Or?

**Jack Zimmermann:** I trust you to decide how this goes. 

Eric had planned to go over midterm study guides on the train, but as the train pulls away from the Samwell station, he instead finds himself staring out the window, cheeks burning, with his laptop stowed untouched in his bag. He tries to recall all the details of their Skype call two days ago. The pertinent details are bright and hot in his memory, but some of the finer points are, he knows, lost to the haze of orgasm that had followed. He works to remember, starts making a list--no, a plan--in his head.

He and Jack don’t sext. Jack is terrible at texting in general, so it would never work anyway, but they are also fairly cautious about what they put in writing and in permanent photographic form, just in case either of their phones is ever lost, stolen, hacked, whatever. Eric wishes they did, though. Wishes he had some kind of notes for this.

Eric taps his fingers absently against his knee. Closes his eyes. Bites hard on the inside of his cheek. Rather than risk freaking out his neighbor, who is side-eyeing him at this point, Eric tells himself to stop overthinking it and reaches for his bag. He gets his laptop out and turned on, and starts paging through a PDF of history notes. 

He tries hard to study through the flashes of memory:  _ Jack’s hand moving over his own cock on Eric’s screen. Jack stuttering, “You could-- I would-- if you wanted to make me, you could make me do-- anything, Bits. Anything _ . He works to focus through the burn in his face, the anticipation that may as well be choking him. He reads about rationing during the second world war, and knows he could pick Jack’s brain on that topic, and then his mind goes instantly to the way Jack had said,  _ “I like it when you hold me down a little,”  _ and  _ “I just want to be good for you.” _

Eric manages three pages of the PDF before he realizes he hasn’t retained anything. He snaps the laptop shut and stares blankly out the window for the remainder of his trip. 

*

Eric makes dinner with the ingredients Jack bought. He had done his grocery shopping online, screen sharing with Eric so they could make a menu for the weekend. It's something they do on weeks when Eric can make it down to visit, a weird long-distance domesticity thing that Eric loves.

While he cooks, his hands take over and most of it gets done on muscle memory. Eric keeps thinking about the things Jack said to him over their video call. He remembers, in particular, Jack still fully clothed and blushing a little, saying,  _ “I have something I want to try. You might not like it. If you don’t, it’s okay.” _

He's just pulling the roasted chicken out of the oven when he hears Jack’s key in the lock.

Jack comes in a little disheveled from the wind, hair a little crazy, cheeks red from the cold. Eric meets him in the kitchen doorway and puts his hands on Jack’s face.

“You're freezing,” he says. “Where's your hat?”

“Misplaced it,” Jack murmurs, and tilts his face down.

Eric leans up and presses their lips together, soft, then draws away before it can deepen. He smiles and says, “Take your coat and shoes off, and come sit for dinner.”

Jack’s gaze flickers, and his hands sort of squeeze reflexively at Eric’s biceps, but he says, “Okay,” and does as told. 

Eric plates up salad, chicken, and quinoa, and takes it to the table just as Jack is returning from hanging up his jacket. He's barefoot, in jeans and a sweater Eric actually helped him choose on a shopping trip months ago. Eric can see the hint of a white t-shirt underneath. Jack’s cheeks are still flushed from the wind, or maybe from the way Eric can't help but give him the obvious once-over.

“Sit, Jack,” Eric says gently, and Jack does.

Over dinner, Eric talks about his meeting with Professor Atley, but doesn't mention the internships. They're all in Providence, or at least within driving distance, which he  _ thinks _ Jack will be happy about-- but now isn't the time to ask Jack about something like that.

The conversation lulls, so Eric says, “Tell me about today.”

Jack says, “Oh, you know. We did the Little Falconers thing this morning. Saw the trainers. George wants me to do Twitter and I still really don’t.” He shrugs. “Not much to tell. I’m… kind of. Wiped. I guess.”

Eric smiles softly at him across the table, nudges Jack’s foot with his own. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Jack nods. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

They finish eating, and Jack is quiet. Eric tries to puzzle out what about this version of quiet-Jack is different from others he has seen. He doesn’t appear distressed or outwardly anxious. He doesn’t have the jittery energy that comes when something is bothering him. He looks tired but not exhausted. He’s just quiet, a little soft around the edges. Once his plate is cleared he watches Eric finish his own, and appears to be… waiting.

_ Oh. _

Eric stands and collects both plates. “Go in the bedroom, baby,” he says. “I’ll be in in a minute.”

“Okay,” Jack agrees easily, and is gone before Eric reaches the kitchen.

Eric rinses the plates and loads them into the dishwasher. He stands at the counter for a moment, and takes a deep breath. His mind races ahead, tells him he needs to get to Jack right now, move this thing along, whatever it is, but Eric forces himself to go slow and think. 

The first explicit thing Jack had said during their Skype conversation came in the middle of the kind of heated flirting they tend to get up to lately once they’ve done a rundown of their days. He had said,  _ “I like when you tell me what to do.” _

Eric had assumed Jack meant feedback, or prompting. 

_ “No,”  _ Jack had clarified.  _ “Like. I want... I want you to tell me what to do. I kind of… I kind of want you to make me. Like, make me do whatever you want me to do. Make it so I  _ have _ to.” _

Eric’s face had gone burning hot, his heart skipping in his chest. Much like it is now, as he lets the cool granite of the countertop under his hands ground him as he breathes.

Jack had said,  _ “I just want to be less in control, sometimes, I think.”  _

Eric leaves the kitchen with that in mind. 

Jack is standing a little awkwardly in the middle of the bedroom when Eric comes in. Eric smiles at him. 

“Sorry,” he says. Jack raises an eyebrow in question. Eric says, “I maybe should’ve given you something to do when you got in here, huh?”

“Oh,” Jack murmurs, flushing across his cheekbones. “It’s okay.”

Eric pauses. “You’ve been waiting for me to tell you what to do since the second you walked in the door.”

Jack smirks. “I mean…” He scratches at the back of his head. “I think you’re only noticing because we talked about it.”

“What,” Eric huffs. “Do you usually?”

“Sometimes. A little,” Jack admits. 

Eric brings one hand to his chest. “Am I  _ bossy _ ?”

“I like it.”

_ God _ . Eric thinks he might just die on the spot. “You like it.”

“Yeah.”

Jack tilts his head, and he’s just standing there _waiting,_ so Eric crosses the room and taps Jack’s right arm. “Put your arms up.”

Jack obeys easily and Eric lifts Jack’s sweater and t-shirt up over his head, tossing them to the side.

“Sit,” Eric says, nudging Jack toward the bed. Jack does it, and looks up expectantly at Eric. He’s blushing even more, and it’s unbearably pretty. “So. Uh. What were the words we talked about?”

Jack goes pinker at the low-pitched question. Eric traces a finger over one hot cheek. Jack closes his eyes and says, “Red for stop. Yellow for...um, if I need a minute.”

“Green for go,” Eric finishes, rubbing his thumb against Jack’s cheek. “Okay?”

“Yes. I mean. Green?”

Eric laughs. “Yeah, that works.” He bends down and presses his lips to Jack’s, firm but close-mouthed. “Don’t be afraid to tell me to stop.”

“I won’t.”

“Okay. Get your pants off.”

Eric turns away from Jack and crosses to the walk-in, disappears inside it for a moment. It’s an opportunity to compose himself--because just  _ talking like that _ had made him hard in his jeans--but he’s there for a reason. Eric retrieves a tie from where they hang beside a neat row of bagged suits. He breathes in deep, then out slowly, before going back out into the room. 

The second thing Jack said that blew Eric’s mind over Skype was,  _ “I think I want to be tied up a little?” _

He’d said this with his hand on his cock, stroking slowly because Eric asked him to take his time. Eric had needed to squeeze himself so he wouldn’t come right then and there, completely ruined by the shyness in Jack’s voice layered over with a sort of hungry desperation that Eric found,  _ finds _ , sinfully attractive.

They’d discussed the ties later, when they’d both cleaned up and gotten back into their clothes. Things had been a little more awkward then, but Eric had drawn the specifics out of Jack, and the ties were, apparently, A Thing.

Eric holds it up now for Jack to see. “Green?”

“Yeah.” 

Jack is naked, seated at the foot of the bed with his feet flat on the floor, his hands by his sides. He’s hard, but he looks so…

“You’re very calm,” Eric comments, dropping the tie on the bed next to Jack, insinuating himself between Jack’s knees.

“I’m-- Yeah. I am.” Jack leans into Eric’s hand in his hair. “I want you.”

“You have me,” Eric tells him, digging his fingers into Jack’s scalp and massaging at the nape of his neck. “Always, honey.”

Jack’s eyes slip closed. 

“Jack? What do you want?”

“Wha--” Jack looks up at him again. “I thought--”   


Eric watches him struggle for the right words for a second, but puts him out of his misery fast--he can see that now they’re face-to-face, Jack is hitting a little bit of a wall. “When we talked, you said you want me to be in charge. That doesn’t mean you don’t get what you want. So?”

“Can I blow you?”

Eric laughs at that. He tugs Jack’s hair the way he knows Jack likes, not enough to hurt, just enough to give him a little pressure, a little jolt. Eric bends down and hovers his mouth just shy of Jack’s. “Your favorite thing, right Jack?”

“You know it is,” Jack says, his voice gone a little rough at the clench of Eric’s hand in his hair. 

“I do,” Eric agrees. “And I love it.”

Eric lets go of Jack’s hair so he can step back. Jack is breathing a little harder now, his eyes tracking each movement with interest. Eric is, unsurprisingly, so into this. He supposes it’s not such a shock, that they’re doing this. That Jack asked for it. Jack is always  _ trying _ . Always  _ working _ . But in bed, he’s… hesitant isn’t the word. Submissive is. Eric knows that. Even when Jack is telling Eric how to do something--when he gave instructions for Eric to stretch him open so Eric could fuck him for the first time, for example--it’s…

Jack waits for Eric. He waits for the go-ahead. He waits for  _ approval _ . He can tell Eric all the steps in one breath and in the next beg for them. Eric loves giving it. Loves telling Jack all the things he does so  _ right _ .

So now, he just tells Jack what to do before he does it. It’s not that different, except it is, and Eric is finding it mind-numbingly hot.

“Get on your knees,” Eric says gently, and Jack does it so fast Eric nearly laughs again. He bites his lips instead, cuts it off into just a smile. “You’re so eager,” he says. “Put your hands in front. Wrists together.”

Jack does it. Eric picks up the tie. It’s blue, and Eric remembers Jack coming home from some charity thing months ago, this tie loosened around his neck. 

“Still green?”

Jack nods. “Green.”

Eric kneels in front of Jack, wraps the tie around his wrists, and ties it at the bottom in a tight bow, nothing he won’t be able to undo easily if Jack needs him to. “Is that too tight?”

Jack wiggles his hands and wrists and shakes his head. “No, it’s good.”

“Okay.”

Eric stands and strips out of his t-shirt, but pauses with his hands on the button of his jeans.

“Jesus,” he says. “Jack. You look… you wouldn’t believe what you look like right now.”

Jack looks incredible on his knees, Eric’s always thought so. But now he’s there and he’s bright-eyed and hungry-looking, his hair mussed from Eric’s hands and his face flushed. Eric drops to his knees in front of Jack and hooks one finger through the tie around his wrists. He gives it a tug, tipping Jack into his own space. He uses his other hand to brace Jack, keep him from toppling all the way forward without his hands there to catch himself. Eric kisses him, bites at his lower lip, slides their tongues together. It’s fast and a little messy, and Jack groans into Eric’s mouth, kisses back and makes a needy sound in the back of his throat when Eric pulls away. 

Eric pushes Jack’s shoulder, guides him upright again. He places Jack’s wrists against his thighs again. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Eric says. “You’re so good for me, aren’t you?”

“Want to be,” Jack says, head bowed. “Tell me how.”

Eric kisses him because that is just too much, and he needs to buy himself a few seconds before he stands up again.

Eventually he does stand, then unbuttons and unzips his jeans. He pushes them and his boxer briefs down his thighs but not all the way off, not yet. Just enough to get his cock out. Eric wraps his own hand around himself and sighs. 

“This is what you want?”

Jack’s eyes are dark, wanting, and he says, “ _ Yes, _ ”

Eric edges forward until the head of his cock bumps against Jack’s lower lip. “Lift up your hands.”

Jack does, raising his bound wrists together. 

“Tap my leg with them.”

Jack does.

“If you can’t speak and you need to stop, I want you to do that. Otherwise, don’t move your hands. Got it?”

“Yes,” Jack breathes. “Green.”

Eric uses one hand to hold himself at the base of his cock, and the other to hold Jack at the base of his neck. He guides Jack forward and himself in, Jack’s mouth falling open for him. Jack sweeps his tongue around the head, moans at the first taste, his eyes open and gazing up at Eric with this mix of desire and adoration that makes Eric feel both powerful and humbled in equal measure. He waits until Jack seals his lips over and slides them down a little before moving so both his hands tangle in Jack’s hair. He doesn’t move Jack or hold him still, but lets Jack set the pace and rhythm for now. His fingers convulse against Jack’s head, scratch at his scalp again, twist through his hair when it’s particularly good. 

Jack’s eyes have fallen closed, his face relaxed into a sort of bliss, his mouth and tongue working Eric over. His mouth is hot and wet, and with every pull back, he sucks just so. Eric gasps over him, holds onto Jack’s hair like a lifeline.  

“Stop,” Eric gasps after another firm stroke of Jack’s tongue into the ridge under the head of his cock. 

Jack pops his mouth off, draws in air on an audible inhale. “It's not good?”

“ _ Jesus, _ ” Eric groans, shaking his head. “Of course it’s good. God, look at you.”

He presses his thumb into the corner of Jack’s lips. Jack makes a move as though to draw that into his mouth but visibly stops himself. 

“Do it,” Eric commands softly.

Jack’s eyes flutter shut and he turns his head, sucks Eric’s thumb into his reddened mouth. Eric feels it in his balls, a shock through his body. 

“F-fuck,” he stutters. “ _ Jack. _ ”

He slides his thumb out, then replaces it with his first two fingers. He slides them in, fucks Jack’s mouth with them. Jack whimpers, tries to take Eric’s fingers deeper. Eric knows Jack can deepthroat his cock, knows Jack loves it.

“I want to fuck your mouth,” Eric says, shocking himself. They're really never like this. Never this filthy. It's hot, and there's a thrill of  _ wrongness  _ even though Eric knows it's not, that Jack trusts him and he trusts Jack and this is  _ good.  _ The idea that he's getting away with something, though… Eric loves that.

“ _ Please _ ,” Jack begs, letting his head fall back into Eric's hand. 

“How are your hands?”

“Good,” Jack says impatiently, rises up from where he’s been resting on his heels, and Eric gives his hair a little tug.

“Don't rush me,” Eric admonishes, and it’s so natural. He doesn’t even have to think about this. He’ll process that later. “I'll give you everything you want, just keep being so good for me.”

“Sorry,” Jack gasps, leaning into the pull of Eric’s fingers in his hair. 

Eric bends down and kisses him, hard and dirty. Jack is so responsive it's startling, making small noises against Eric’s mouth, practically writhing in place, but not fighting to move his hands at all.

Eric steps out of his jeans and underwear once he straightens up again, and kicks them out of the way. “Can you stand up?”

“With a little help,” Jack says. He looks like he might question it for a second, but he doesn't. Eric steadies him, pulling him up by his upper arm. Jack wavers in place, and Eric is sure after so long holding himself up on his knees with no hands to balance must have required some pretty impressive muscle control. 

_ God bless the NHL _ , Eric thinks as he leads Jack to the bed. 

He tells Jack to lie down and lean back, pulls at Jack’s shoulders and prompts him to lay his shoulders at the edge of the bed. They've done this before. Eric had been fresh out of a shower and found Jack hanging sort of upside down, his head hanging back off the mattress. Jack had reeled him in, nuzzled him until he was hard, told Eric he could probably take him all the way down his throat like that. Eric had been more than willing to test that theory. 

When Jack had said from Eric’s computer screen the other night,  _ “It’s not that I want you to force me to do anything, or that I want you to hurt me? I just. I want to be… I guess, helpless. For you. That's probably weird.” _

Eric had been so consumed by the mental image of doing exactly this, because when he thinks  _ helpless _ he doesn't think  _ Jack _ . Ever. But when Jack says it out loud, Eric thinks of Jack’s bared throat, the way his body had been stretched out where Eric could see all of it, could watch the twitches of Jack’s hips as he swallowed Eric down, fingers digging into Eric’s ass and guiding him in and out.

He had been forced to pinch himself back to reality and say,  _ “Nothing you want from me could ever be weird.” _

Now, Eric watches Jack clench his hands below the strip of blue silk around his wrists. Eric can see that he's hard and leaking all over his belly, the divots between his abs glistening with pre-come. 

“You must be dying to touch yourself,” Eric muses out loud, running a hand from Jack’s ribcage up to his face, cupping his cheek and sweeping his thumb over Jack’s mouth.

“You…” Jack swallows. “You told me to keep my hands--”

“I know, baby,” Eric murmurs. He presses his thumb against Jack’s full lower lip. “You've been amazing. You listen so well.”

“I love this,” Jack blurts. “I love you.”

Eric says, “I love you too, Jack. So much. You're amazing, this is amazing.”

Jack squirms on the bed. “Bits, please.”

“Okay,” Eric whispers. “Okay. If you need to stop--”

Jack lifts his hands up straight into the air. It would be hard for him to do much else with them tied like that.  “I can do this.”

Eric nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

Eric is frankly amazed at the way Jack loves giving blowjobs. Eric himself likes going down on Jack, loves it, thinks about it when he should be paying attention in his Econ class. But Jack  _ really _ loves doing it. He gets off on it in a way that Eric doesn't, quite. Jack has brought himself off fast and hard, coming even before Eric does, moaning around Eric’s cock as he sucks him right through his own orgasm. That's usually enough to send Eric right over the edge after him, actually.

Now Jack is practically vibrating as Eric slides shallowly in and out of his wide open mouth. He makes uneven noises around Eric’s cock and his fingers twitch but his hands don't, won't move from where Eric gently placed them at chest level, elbows bent. 

Eric, for his part, feels like he deserves some kind of award for not coming already. He has to squeeze his eyes shut against the sight of Jack, Eric’s hands against his chest, there to hold Jack’s hands when they seem too tightly clenched, there to hold him down. A stream of babbling praise falls from Eric’s mouth. 

“My perfect, beautiful boy,” he gasps, sliding deeper, feels the back of Jack’s threat. Jack gags just a little but adjusts himself, thrashes his shoulders against the mattress, moans. “You're so good at this, Jack.”

Jack practically sobs. Eric leans forward, thrusts his hips, provokes that strangled sound out of Jack again, and scrapes his nails over what he can reach of Jack’s torso. 

“I haven’t even touched your dick,” Eric says, a little hysterical if he’s being honest. “But look at you, you're leaking everywhere. You wanna come for me, Jack?”

Jack makes a sound that Eric  _ thinks _ is affirmative, but, of course, there’s no telling for sure, so he pulls out of Jack’s mouth and straightens up, one hand squeezing the base of his cock, staving off his orgasm a little longer. He grips Jack’s bicep with his other hand, as much to try and anchor Jack’s attention as to keep himself still.  “Tell me.”

“Yes,” Jack replies, voice a wreck. “Yes, Bits, Eric, please let me--”

Eric yanks one end of the tie and Jack’s wrists fall free, his arms falling shocked and heavy to the bed. “Touch yourself,” Eric instructs. “Now.”

Jack’s movements are slow and fumbling at first but he gets one hand around himself and the other flung up over his head, reaching to clamp around Eric’s thigh. His nails dig and Eric cries out, the little, sharp pain of it making him gasp.

“Good, Jack, so good, come on--” Eric gets one knee up on the bed swings himself to Jack’s side. Jack moves his hand to let him then finds Eric again, holding on. His shoulders lift up so he can see himself, see where Eric has started jerking his own cock hard and fast. Eric looks  into Jack’s face and sees surrender, sees that Jack is gone on this. 

Jack comes with a shout, and Eric says, “ _ Fuck, _ ” and follows him right over, coming in spurts over Jack’s chest and ribs, a little on his stomach. 

Jack makes broken, punched-out noises below him, his hands shaking, one still gentling over his own cock, the other reaching for Eric. 

"Got you," Eric gasps, taking Jack's hand. "I've got you."

Eric has to lean down on one arm for a second and catch his breath. Jack has collapsed back, and for a moment all Eric can see is his throat and chin and his chest, which heaves. Jack’s entire body twitches, and Eric moves over him.

“Baby, sit up,” he says quietly, tugs Jack's hand and helps him upright. Jack ducks his head immediately into Eric’s neck. His forehead is damp with sweat, and Eric realizes his face is wet. Eric pulls back and wipes at the tears. “Jack? You okay?”

“I…” Jack shudders. “Yes.”

Eric takes that at face value and  lets Jack lean against him for an indeterminate amount of time. Jack’s breathing evens out gradually. Eric says, “That. Was. Um.”

Jack turns his face to the side, looks up at Eric. “Was it okay?”

Eric barks an incredulous laugh. “ _ Yes _ ,” he says emphatically. “Was it okay for you?”

“It was better than I thought it would be and I thought it would be insanely good,” Jack says. “I feel… weird. But it’s a good weird.”

“What do you need?” Eric asks, shifting back. “God, you’re covered in, well--”

“That’s a lot of come,” Jack says, sort of dopey, looking down at himself. “Wow.”

Eric giggles and presses their faces together. “Yes, honey. It is. Wanna go get cleaned up?”

“Not yet,” Jack says. “Wipes?”   


“Sure.” 

Eric goes for the wet wipes they keep stashed in the nightstand and goes about cleaning up Jack’s abs and pecs. He finds that he has nothing to say while he does that, which is good, because Jack looks like he couldn’t concentrate on a complicated sentence or concept if he tried right now. 

Eric waits until he’s tossed the used wipes toward the bathroom to be retrieved off the floor later, to say, “You are gorgeous.” He strokes a hand down the front of Jack’s body. “And sweet,” he adds. He runs his fingers across Jack’s lips. “You’re so… I don’t even know what to say,”

“I’m  _ yours,  _ Bits,” Jack says into his arm, flung up over his face. “I’m...So. Out of it.”

Eric laughs, gently moves Jack’s arm out of the way so he can press their foreheads together. “What can I do?”

Jack turns into him. “Just this.”

“Okay, honey,” Eric whispers. The weight of what he’s done, the effect he’s had, starts to sink its way into his brain, the way Jack is sinking bonelessly into his side.

A matter of months ago, Eric was a virgin who thought the guy he was into was straight and moving on without him. Now he gets this?

_ Mind. Blown,  _ Eric thinks and sort of giggles to himself.

“What?” Jack mutters, rubbing the side of his face into Eric’s neck. His stubble rasps against Eric’s skin.

Shivering a little, Eric says, “I feel lucky.”

“Me too,” Jack says, and presses his lips to Eric's collarbone

*

Later, they lean against the counter in their towels, eating an apple crumble straight out of the pie plate. 

Jack bumps Eric’s shoulder. “We can do that again? Sometime?”

“Oh my god, whenever you want!” Eric pinches Jack’s side. “I'm still dizzy, that was so good.”

“Okay,” Jack says, a secretive smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That's… good. That you liked it.”

“I’m sort of surprised? I didn’t think I had it in me, honestly.” Eric laughs. “But then, you say I’m bossy, so--”

“Hey,” Jack interrupts. “I didn’t mean anything by that. It’s not. You’re not--”

“Jack?”

“Yeah.”

Eric sets down his fork and tangles his fingers with Jack’s. “You need to know you can tell me anything.” Eric feels himself blush, which is inexplicable considering what he's just done. “Like, sex related or not.”

“I know,” Jack says, squeezing Eric’s hand. 

“And I want you to know you don't have to… do things I want? Just because I want them. I don't want to be…  _ bossy.  _ I don't need you to do things for me to think you're the most wonderful, the  _ best  _ man in the entire world, and--”

Jack cuts him off with a kiss. “You haven’t done anything wrong. You take good care of me. Love you, Bits.”

“Well--”

“You can keep bossing me around,” Jack continues, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Please keep chirping me and telling me I have terrible taste and making me watch Beyoncé on that awards thingy and reminding me to call my mom.”

Eric laughs. “Okay, honey.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, you're welcome.”

Jack tosses their forks at the sink and pulls the cling wrap back over the rest of the pie.

“Today was long,” Jack says then. “I spent a lot of the day being public-Jack and some of it pretending not to be frustrated at the trainers because I’m being rested for a couple games. I got to hang out with a bunch of kids and that was great, but I also had to deal with their parents which was… not. Then I came home to you, which is always the best part of my day when you’re here. But on top of that, this time, I got to just… not make any decisions. Not think. Not worry. You had me. I loved it.”

Eric brings his own hands up to his face. “Wow. Jack. I feel like I should be saying  _ got your back _ here, or something? I’ll do this for you whenever you want, just ask, I’m… well apparently I’m  _ so  _ down for it.”

Jack just smiles, pecks him on the cheek and heads out to the hallway. 

He says, casually, “And next time you can tie me to the bed and ride me, if you want. I've been thinking about that. A lot.”

Eric watches Jack leave the kitchen with his mouth hanging open.

_ This boy, _ he thinks,  _ will be the end of me.  _

He follows, calling, “I know you know what you're doing, thank you very much.”

Jack’s laughter echoes down the hall.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on tumblr adventuresinsuburbia.tumblr.com


End file.
